Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea
by PenelopeWeaving
Summary: A one-shot submitted to "Prompts in Panem," Everlark Week Challenge, October 2012. Day 1 - Legendary Romances. This is a mash-up that mostly combines Everlark with Penelope and Odysseus - with a little Helen of Troy thrown in for good measure.


_"Nevertheless I long - I pine all my days  
to travel home and see the dawn of my return.  
And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea,  
I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure."_

**The Odysse**y _by Homer, translated by Robert Fagles, V 242-245_

Katniss looked out among the crowd of Phaeacians who were waiting for her to speak. Didn't they understand? Storytelling was not her strength.

But the youngest Phaeacian Prince, a handsome youth named Gale, prompted her again. "Please, my lady. Tell us how you got here?"

***  
It had begun with a kidnapping.

Katniss had never been careless, but perhaps joy had gotten in the way of her instincts. It was as if a veil had lifted from her eyes, and she could finally see clearly. She loved Peeta. She always had. She wasn't sure why she'd thought anything else. She knew with sudden clarity that she could never leave him. But there was the problem of Cato, son of Priam. And she knew it would be hard to explain to him why, after all, she would not go with him to Troy.

She had underestimated his attachment to her - and his reckless nature.

Before she knew it, she was on a boat halfway across the Aegean Sea. And then she was in Troy, presented to Cato's brother, his father, most appallingly, his people, as the bride of their land, a testament to the unfailing peace between their countries.

She'd been only fifteen.

She refused to marry Cato, and his father and brother had taken pity on her. But then the Greeks had attacked, and she was stuck.

Ten long years and war waged. She learned. She realized her careless mistakes. She realized the folly of refusing to trust her own feelings. She realized, and she waited.

She wondered about Peeta. Where was he? She wondered if anyone would come for her. Athena, daughter of Zeus, was her most frequent visitor, bolstering her spirits, whispering to her of a life worth waiting for.

When the horse, the peace offering, showed up at the city gates, she tried to hide her smile. She knew. She recognized her kinsmen's cunning. The people of the city welcomed the horse. The years of war had brought poverty and hardship upon them, and they were desperate to believe that something good could happen. They had prayed to their gods. They had made their offerings. They had no reason to believe the gift was something other than genuine.

But she knew. She not only knew, she prepared. In the night, she stole out of the palace disguised as a servant. She had her bow strapped to her torso, jutting down her leg. Her arrows nestled between her shoulder blades. In the dark city streets, she waited for the battle to begin, used her arrows to aid her countrymen, and watched as the Greeks decimated the city. As the battle subsided and the men began to collect the dead, she saw Cato, son of Priam. In the smoke of fires, he was slipping off, making an escape. She notched her last arrow and let it fly. Her business with him was finished.

By the light of the burning city, she saw the bright-eyed goddess Athena watching from the parapet of the palace roof.

Peeta was here. She knew in her bones he was here, and she was feverish to find him. She searched the battlefield and then the camps. For several days she wandered from one fireside to the next, asking for news of her family, news of her home.

And then finally she found Finnick, battered and weary from years of war. Her heart surged in her chest as she fell into his arms. Crying, clutching to this form from home, she felt a piece of herself reforming, recognition of who she was emerging from the fog of captivity.

"What are you doing here?" he asked frantically, talking into her hair.

"Where is Peeta?" she asked, pulling back from him. "Is he here? Where is he?"

She saw his face fall minutely, and her insides gripped in terror. He had to be here, had to be alive. The gods couldn't fail her now when she was so close to finding her home.

"He's gone already, Katniss. They told us," he paused. "Cato told us they had sent you back weeks ago. It's the only reason we let him live."

Katniss stared at him mutely.

"Peeta readied his ship that night and was gone to find you."

"I escaped. As soon as I saw the horse, I knew. I snuck out. I was there in the battle. I looked for him." She was falling. Her legs buckled beneath her, and Finnick caught her as she sagged towards the ground.

He fed her that night and put her to bed, but her sleep was restless and she cried out, waking them both again and again.

She dreamed of the olive tree, the place where she first saw Peeta.

She'd been starving. Her father had died, and her mother had been cast out from his family, who no longer wanted the extra mouths of a widow and her two daughters. They had lived in a cave for weeks, and Katniss had foraged for food as her mother lay in heartache and her sister tried to care for her. But Katniss couldn't bring in enough to feed them. They were starving.

In desperation, she had crept towards the palace, sneaking behind the kitchens, hoping to beg pity from the cooks.

But as she crouched down by the olive tree, she'd seen the young prince instead. Peeta, his father King of Ithaca, had come out from the kitchen door.

She was weak, and when she saw him, she froze in fear, afraid he might order her away from the palace. But he recognized her distress and brought her into the kitchens. He fed her and asked of her family.

It was uncharacteristic for Katniss to trust, but she did trust Peeta from that very moment. He followed her to the cave, bringing with them supplies - food and water and blankets.

And he found work for them in the palace, so they never faced starvation again after that.

She saw Peeta every day, and their childhood friendship remained into their teens. He loved her. He first told her when he was thirteen, on the brink of manhood. But Katniss knew his mother, knew she would never approve. And she couldn't do that to Peeta: she didn't want to cause more problems in the family.

She knew the expectation that Peeta would marry a woman of wealth and family standing. She knew Peeta could never marry her.

But still they met at the olive tree each day so they could talk. Or sometimes Peeta would paint as Katniss made arrows or foraged through the woods. The olive tree was theirs, the place where she was most happy.

Katniss awoke from her dream but could find no comfort in the images of home. By the first pale light of morning, she lay on her pallet with red eyes and foreboding in her heart. She wondered if she would ever see him again. And if she did, she wondered how she would ever deserve him, deserve the happiness that would come with loving him.

"Does he know, Finnick?" she asked into the quiet tent. "Does he know that I love him?"

He lay silently, but she knew he was awake, so she waited.

"He loves you," he said quietly. "That's all he knows." He rolled over to face her, and she could see his green eyes in the light of dawn as they rested on her face. "I'll get you home to him, Katniss. We'll start today."

***  
Only the gods could know of the journey ahead of them.

Encountering storms so brutal no ship could navigate, the small fleet finally found themselves in the land of the Lotus Eaters. Katniss was exhausted, had not been able to sleep for days from the rocking of the ship, and as she lay down in the tall grasses, a bliss so deep and gentle flooded her. For the first time in years, she fell asleep without thinking of Peeta.

But gray-eyed Athena, always watching out for her favorite, came to Katniss in a dream, filling her mind with thoughts of home, nudging her back awake.

They battled cannibals, the fearsome Cyclops, losing many men in his cave. And they angered Poseidon, god of the loud-roaring sea, when Finnick blinded the hideous mutt.

Navigating the wine-dark sea, avoiding rocky shoals and monsters, Sirens who would sing them to their death, the years took their toll, and more than once Katniss grieved, believed she would never make it home.

And then the unthinkable happened.

***  
Her voice faltered, and the Phaeacians waited patiently. The young prince poured her more wine.

"You are safe now," he said. "You can stay here and be safe. Don't tell us more if it troubles you."

But she must speak, though the words came thickly and never enough. Never the right ones. But to honor him, she must finish his story.

"We had angered the gods," she said simply. "We made a mistake, and we paid for it over and over again. I am, still, paying."

***  
"Throughout our journey, we met many men and monsters, gods and lesser gods, some who wished to help and some who did not. But all our efforts proved vain against the wrath of Poseidon.

With a depleted crew, we attempted to navigate the narrow path between the terrors of Scylla and Charybdis. The whirlpool most treacherous, Charybdis, would pull our boat in, killing us all. So Finnick made the decision to skirt closer to Scylla, a deadly, six-headed mutt who would reach out to us from her rock." Katniss tried to swallow as her throat closed up on her words.

"In trying to lose the least, he lost the most."

Katniss looked out at the table of strangers but only saw the loud-roaring sea, the bright blue of the sky, the dark red blood that ran down the mutt's many heads.

"I watched as the monster grabbed up the flailing crewmen, terror in their eyes as they were consumed. The ship made it past the mutt, but Finnick and the crew did not."

She remembered the revulsion and grief she felt as she saw the mutt's gaping jaws close down on Finnick, his eyes bulging in fear. She'd never seen him afraid before that moment. And above Scylla, rising from the waves of the ocean, she saw earth-shaker Poseidon, laughing at her grief, surrounded by the foam of the ocean, white as snow.

"I drifted on the open sea for days. I dreamed of the underworld, seeing my father there. He spoke to me of my family still at home: Prim, my mother, those still alive who needed me." Her father had shown her a vision of Peeta. She saw him in a dark room painting.

"I awoke to a renewed will to live. On the fifth day, I saw an island.

"The gods were gracious when they brought me to Johanna's house, but I stayed there too long. She nursed me back to life, wanted me to stay, but I could only dream of home. How many days did I wander down to the beach, gazing upon the sea - the same waters that kissed the shores of home? How many times did I look up to the sky - the same sky that blanketed my family, my home?

"Athena, daughter of Zeus, has been my constant companion on this journey, and she did not forget me in the end. She came to Johanna and helped her see truth. I needed to go. So Johanna provided me with a ship.

"But Poseidon, bull of the sea, had one last piece of wrath for me, and he destroyed my ship in a storm so powerful, it left me adrift in the ocean before washing up here."

***  
Katniss looked around, suddenly aware again of her surroundings. The young Prince Gale sat at her side, holding her hand in comfort as she had told her sad tale. She smiled at him and gently removed her hand.

As Katniss sat before them, the Phaeacians saw the bright-eyed goddess standing behind her, and they recognized in Katniss an individual greatly valued by the gods. They knew what they needed to do.

In a day's time, they had a fleet readied, treasure heaped upon the decks of seven ships. Katniss was going home.

***  
Something told her to approach with caution. The Phaeacians had unloaded their gifts on the beach, and she had secured them in a nearby cavern.

Athena whispered in her ear, helped her know that the situation in the palace was tenuous. She should not simply walk in.

As she made her way up from the beach, a sob escaped her as she saw a figure coming towards her. Fair-haired Prim.

Katniss waited at an outcropping of rocks for her sister to pass, and then, she called her name, her voice breaking on the single syllable.

Prim froze, turning slowly, her face blanched white. Their eyes met, and she could tell Prim doubted her own vision.

"Prim, it's me. I'm home. I'm here. Prim?" The girl lurched forward and Katniss caught her, grabbing her up and holding tight to this woman who somehow was also the little sister she left behind all those years ago.

"Katniss," she said, pulling back and placing her hand on her sister's cheek. "I knew you would come. I never doubted that you would return to us."

"I'm home, Prim, I'm home. I've been fighting to get home for so long! I can't believe I am finally here."

They stared at each other, taking in the sight of the older versions of themselves. Prim's hair was as light as Katniss remembered, and her eyes held a confidence and wisdom that she knew had always been there.

Katniss suddenly felt self conscious. How did she appear to her sister? How must she look to the those she loved when she was so much older now?

The worry showed on her face, but Prim's words cut through the doubt flooding her. "Katniss, you've made it just in time."

"Tell me."

***  
Peeta had returned from Troy to learn the truth, the fact that Cato had never sent Katniss home. In his despondency, he had prepared to sail back to Troy. But his father was ailing, and he knew he was needed at home. He began sending messages to others as they returned: did anyone know of Katniss? Did anyone see her in the fall of the city?

His inquiries brought no news for years until a soldier, a beggar, wandering the country showed up one day. He claimed he'd seen her. He told of how she found Finnick and they set off together. Immediately, he sent an inquiry to Fourtos, Finnick's island home, and heard back from his wife Annie that Finnick had not returned.

Peeta's father had died, and his mother began to pressure him to marry. He must take up the kingdom of Ithaca, and to do so, he must have a queen.

But Peeta resisted. How could he do otherwise?

A progression of maidens were brought to the palace, girls of proper wealth and breeding and of age to marry. But Peeta would hear nothing of it and for years steadfastly refused to discuss the topic despite the pressure his mother placed on him.

Throughout it all, Peeta had no one but Prim to confide in, and they comforted each other. Prim never gave up hope that Katniss would return, but she could see the toll it was taking on Peeta.

As his mother gave her final ultimatum, he must choose a woman to marry or leave his home, Peeta grew conflicted. He could not leave. If Katniss returned, this is where she would look. He must stay here so that she could find him. But he refused to marry another.

And then he had an idea. He went to his mother's chambers.

"Mother," he said in his most respectful tones, "you know I have refused to marry in hopes that Katniss would come back. I have finally accepted that she will never return."

Even saying the words aloud pained him, and his mother saw the anguish on his face. "My son," she said, "you are right. She will never return. And even if she did, she would be too old to be your bride now. Could she bear you children? No, it would never work. You are wise to see these things."

Peeta let the poisonous words fall around him. He would not hear them.

"But I cannot yet marry another," he said. "She was my first love. I cannot love another until I have honored her death."

His mother made a clucking noise in the back of her throat to register her disapproval but did not speak.

"I will paint her portrait," he said. "Once I have honored her spirit in this way, I will choose another."

He began work immediately, taking such care and caution with every step of the process that just the background took months to complete. His mother waited impatiently, but he simply reminded her of their agreement.

As the rosy fingers of dawn came through his window each morning, Peeta painted. He swirled colors on the canvas to evoke the hues of the forest she loved, of her dark hair, her gray eyes, her Grecian skin. But what his mother never realized was that each night, he would paint over his newest work. With each step forward, he took an answering step back so that the work changed but never progressed.

Layer upon layer of paint covered the canvas where Peeta painted and painted again, covered and re-covered.

***  
Prim watched her sister's face as her words sank in.

"I am too old for him," she said. "He does need a young bride, someone who can give him children. I might not be able to."

"Katniss, no. You have many years still in which to bear children if you wish. But you didn't hear what I said." She grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed it hard, drawing her attention, making sure Katniss was listening to her and not the voice inside her head.

"Katniss, he loves you. He's been waiting all this time. He's never given up hope that you might return."

She looked at Katniss solemnly before asking, "Do you love him?"

The tears fell from her eyes as Katniss looked back at her sister. "Yes," she said. "I do."

Prim sat back, a smile blooming on her face. "Then we need to figure out a plan."

***  
They decided it would be best for Katniss to stay away from the palace until they could decide what to do. So Katniss returned to the cave that her family had lived in all those years ago.

It was getting dark, and it took some time before she got a fire going. As the kindling lit, the fire grew, and light filled the cave.

It was then that Katniss first saw Peeta's work. All over the walls of the cave were paintings. In bright hues, he had told the story of their time together, like an illustrated timeline of her life.

There was the olive tree, her figure huddled underneath.

There was her family inside the cave.

There was Peeta baking in the kitchen while Katniss sat at a table.

There she was teaching him to swim.

Each picture showed the life they'd had together, the one she had never fully appreciated until it was over. In the flickering light of the fire, the images seemed to move, each scene coming to life before her. She walked slowly around the cave, following the story as it danced upon the walls. The final image was a portrait of her. She reached her hand out to trace the curve of her own face, and she could see his love for her in each stroke of his brush.

Tears flowed down her face. She stood there out of time and without movement until she heard footsteps at the mouth of the cave.

She turned, and it was him. Her breath escaped her lungs at the sight of him, and she froze.

He approached her but stopped a few feet away from her. His blue eyes were bright with urgency and his face was tense with emotion. She could tell he was waiting for a sign from her, but she was already consumed by tears and could do nothing but gesture helplessly towards him.

And then he was on her. His arms held her unbearably tight, and she reveled in the crushing comfort of him. She gasped, and his arms loosened slightly, but she held onto him just the same, holding tight to her sobs, trying not to let them escape.

She could hear him murmuring her name. She raised her head from his chest, facing him and seeing him clearly for the first time. He reached down to wipe her eyes as he looked at her.

"I waited," he said. "I couldn't do anything else. All this time, I've just waited." His voice broke on the last word, and she surged up to him, capturing his face with her hands, his lips with hers.

And it was heartrending. The gentle feel of his lips, the love in his arms, the lost years, the mistakes she had made and paid for - the misery of the past twenty years for both of them was in that kiss as well as the relief of finding each other again.

And she loved him. She had known it all along, had known it for years, but she realized in that moment that he didn't know it yet. And he needed to. Now.

She broke the kiss and breathlessly whispered her words to him. Pressing her cheek to his, whispering in his ear, she told him of her love and her sorrow and her regret. As she began to cry again, he quieted her with another kiss.

***  
She felt the vibration of his voice on her neck as he said, "I love you. I want to feel you. All of you."

"Yes."

She felt his lips trailing down her neck to her breast, capturing her nipple, and she arched to him. His fingers slid up her thigh and twirled into her. When he realized she was already wet, he lifted his head, his face awash in adoration. She reached for him, kissing him and gasping as his fingers slipped inside her. "I love you," she said into his skin as she kissed his jaw and suckled his neck. "Only you. Always."

She could feel the wave building as his finger slipped up into her, dancing circles around her. She arched again, feeling feverish, needing him to satisfy her. He understood and found the spot, the bundle of nerves that made her skin come alive. She opened her eyes and saw him as he watched her rising, rising before him. She stayed with him, holding him with her eyes until she _must _close them and let the delirium crash around her.

As the aftershocks licked at her, he nuzzled her neck, lightly pulling on her skin with his teeth. She opened her eyes to see him next to her, smiling, pleased with himself. Laughter arose within her, such a foreign feeling, one of so many beautiful and extraordinary moments this man had given her.

She reached for him, pulling him between her thighs, his torso long and muscular, somehow immune to the passing years. "Come to me," she murmured. "I want you."

He positioned himself at her opening, but did not go further. "It's going to hurt," he said. "I don't want to hurt you."

She answered him by pulling him down to her. He gasped as he entered her, thrusting the rest of the way in.

And _gods_, it did hurt. She wasn't expecting it, and it angered her. After all she'd been through, all the pain and suffering of years, how could this, which she wanted so much, hurt? It was unfair.

He must have seen the look on her face because he remained still, burying his face into her neck, nipping at her skin, before rising above her. "Look at me," he said.

She did and saw his desire for her. And she realized again all she had put him through. Love and relief flooded through her. She nodded at him, and let out a long breath, feeling her body relax.

It was better already. She raised her knees to cradle his hips, and he groaned at the movement. She pulled him down for a kiss as she tried to arch up to him. His hand grasped her hip as he pulled out and pushed back in slowly.

She was aware of the patience he was showing her as his thrusts remained slow and gentle. But she was anxious for his pleasure, to give him what he'd given her, so she arched again, bringing her hips up to him and quickening his pace.

He panted above her, and she found herself thrilled at the sight of him, the euphoria she could give to him. She felt the stirring faintly in her again. She realized it was too fleeting to catch, but she gave herself over to the sensations, enveloping him in her body and soul, until he thrust once more with a cry, her name falling from his lips, a song of exaltation.

***  
They made their plan that night by the fire as they rested in each others' arms.

He would return home and tell his mother he was finished with the portrait. He was ready to make his choice.

And he would choose the maiden who could prove she knew him best. They planned three questions, questions she knew and could answer better than anyone.

He left her before the dawn.

***  
As Katniss prepared to leave the cave that morning, Athena draped her in disguise, plumping her cheeks and brightening her eyes, giving her the outer appearance of a younger woman.

She met Prim outside the palace walls. "The gods have worked on you," the bright-haired woman said.

Katniss raised her eyebrows in surprise, unsure of her sister's words. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You are disguised in youth," she replied. "Don't worry," she added quickly. "Peeta will recognize you though his mother will not."

Katniss sighed and thanked her benefactress, recognizing again Athena's enormous care for her.

The great hall buzzed with many voices. Young women of all walks of life gathered with their families and chaperones, all ready for the chance to become Queen of Ithaca. Katniss felt her nerves thrum through her body as she observed the commotion before her.

"That's Glimmer," Prim whispered, pointing out a beautiful girl surrounded by many ladies in waiting. "Most believe she will win Peeta's hand. And over there is Cashmere. She's been here the longest. She first came courting just three years after Peeta returned."

Katniss looked over the women in the room and felt her nervousness dissipate, replaced by anger and determination.

"Look," Prim whispered and pointed. On the wall was a portrait positioned next to the head table. It was Katniss, Peeta's vision of her during her lost years.

Just then Peeta walked into the room with his mother behind him. He took his seat at the table in the front of the hall as his mother stepped forward.

"Welcome, welcome, respected guests, esteemed families, distinguished young ladies. We are honored to have you with us on this most happy occasion - the day my son will choose his bride."

There was a rustle of voices among the hall. Katniss watched Peeta as his mother spoke; she could tell he was looking for her. She locked her eyes on him and willed him to see her.

"My son has decided to choose the young lady who knows him best, who can prove her love for him by showing she understands him. To that end, I have devised a single question."

As she spoke these words, Peeta's eyes found hers in the crowd. He looked puzzled at first, but the lines of worry on his face smoothed out with realization. Katniss, however, was worried again. She realized his mother had tampered with their plan.

"I will ask each young woman to come forward and give a description of my son. The one who gives the best portrayal, proves she loves the best because she understands the best, will win my son's hand and become queen of this kingdom."  
She looked around, and her eyes came to rest on her son. "And we will abide by the decision made here today," she said with heavy purpose weighing down her voice.

Around the room the murmurs turned to discussion as the challenge became clear. Many girls looked frightened at the prospect of standing in front of the room, and Katniss watched a few girls gather their entourage and leave.

Katniss herself was worried. She was not good with words, never had been, and with Peeta's mother in charge, there was no longer any guarantee that she could win.

One by one the women of the room were called to the dais to speak. Many girls could barely raise their voices above a whisper. Others stumbled in awkward uncertainty, unused to speaking in public. A few spoke with clarity, their young voices ringing out in the room.

All spoke of Peeta and his kindness. It became clear to Katniss that despite the situation he had been in for the past twenty years - war, grief, unimaginable pressure - he had not changed. He had remained himself - to the point of treating the maidens with kindness and respect even when he had no plans to marry them.

As the number of women grew fewer and fewer, Katniss tried to stay calm. And then it was her turn. She made her way to the dais, holding her fingers together behind her back to keep them from shaking.

Peeta smiled at her as she approached, but his mother looked at her through narrow eyes.

Katniss faced the hall and cleared her throat, and as she began to speak, the bright-eyed one, Athena, swirled around her, filling Katniss with hope and joy, trust and love, respect and determination, which came out in her words like a song:

_"Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story_  
_of that man skilled in all ways of contending,_  
the man of caution, the man of grief.  
Most loyal of men, who found love and waited  
for it to reappear, never showing scorn,  
never pulling others down to share his own misery.

Let me tell the story of one so wise, so beloved by the gods  
that even in scorn, there was compassion,  
even in despair, there was grace  
bestowed upon him to honor his nature.

_His fame has reached the vaulting skies._"

She took a deep breath and turned towards Peeta before saying her last line.

"The one who stayed waiting for me."

As she spoke these final words, the daughter of Zeus lifted her veil, and recognition dawned on all who stood in the hall. Peeta's mother gasped audibly and began to rise from her seat next to her son.

But Peeta put his hand on his mother's arm, stopping her. She turned to him. "I have made my choice, mother," he said quietly. "I made it a long time ago.

Her face fell minutely, but she sat back, acquiescing to her son's decision.

Peeta rose from his chair and crossed to Katniss. He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.

"I pledge before the gods and all who stand here, you are my one true love. I have loved no other but you since I saw you more than twenty years ago. And until my dying day, there will be no other but you."

As he spoke, she brought his hands to her lips, echoing the pledge of the man she loved, the most loyal of men, securely in her arms at last.

* * *

**Notes**

The phrase "sailing the wine-dark sea" shows up in several translations of both The Iliad and The Odyssey. It is also the title of a book by Thomas Cahill.

_"Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the storybr /_  
_of that man skilled in all ways of contending"br /_  
The first lines from Katniss' speech come from the first lines of The Odyssey, translated by Robert Fitzgerald (I 1-2).

_"His fame has reached the vaulting skies."br /_  
The penultimate line from Katniss' speech comes from book XIX of The Odyssey, translated by Robert Fagles, (XIX 18).


End file.
